


Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied

by Windybird



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Coming of Age, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Requited Unrequited Love, Sibling Bonding, that 'follow louis'/'follow violet' scene inspired this bc i was in a bi panic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windybird/pseuds/Windybird
Summary: “How long have you been standing there?” Louis questions, just to be on the safe side. AJ wrinkles his nose.“Enough to hear that you like Clem’s face. I like it too, but I don’t think it’s in the same way.”Clementine’s face pops up in Louis’s brain, her sculpted brows half-furrowed- and seriously, how are her eyebrows so flawless in a world where Louis hasn’t found a single set of tweezers in months? totally unfair-, hazel eyes alight as they listen attentively to something he’s saying, the corners of her lips quirking upward, and Louis fights back a laugh.“Definitely not in the same way, little buddy,” he tells AJ.





	1. of a song i can't get out

**Author's Note:**

> fyi this is the result of watching both the kiss scenes and realizing that choosing between louis and violet is genuinely impossible on a molecular level

She can feel both their eyes on her.

It’s a heavy thing, their appraisal. And not just because of the fact that they’ve taken Marlon’s place as leader- _leaders_ , now, Clementine supposes- of Ericson, and that they can send her and AJ packing at any given moment. Not that they will, though- not after what’s happened.

They’re talking about her. They probably don’t think she can hear them- she’s curled up on one of the picnic benches in the courtyard, knees drawn to her chest, head lowered so that the brim of her hat touches the ripped patches on her jeans, and they’re a good fifteen feet away-, but Clementine’s senses are sort of amplified, now.

“Should we remind her he’s not dead?” Louis murmurs. There’s a soft _ow!_ punctuating the end of his sentence, which is most likely Violet’s doing. Clementine’s eyes flutter shut, and she wills herself to concentrate on her breathing. She’s not thirteen anymore. She can’t have panic attacks whenever something goes wrong, as it inevitably does.

“I don’t really think she wants to hear that right now, Louis,” Violet hisses under her breath. “Her kid’s running a high fever after being shot by a group of _batshit_ crazy raiders- the same raiders who took Minnie and Sophie-, and apparently, some crazy dude wearing _walker_ skins is out roaming the woods. I’m pretty sure anything you’d say to her is gonna fall on deaf ears, okay?”

“Fine,” Louis concedes, and, even with her eyes closed, Clementine can almost see his hands go up in mock-surrender. “But, I don’t know, shouldn’t we do _something_ , Vi? I mean, she’s been in that spot for the past two hours. I’ve counted.”

“What, exactly, do you want us to do?” Violet asks exasperatedly. “She’s upset. She’s not going to get over it because of a card game, or bow practice, or whatever.”

“Actually,” Clementine says as she looks over her shoulder at them, her voice scratchy and low from disuse, “bow practice would be great.”

They both startle. Twin blushes appear on their cheeks, as though embarrassed about getting caught talking about her, but Violet crosses her arms after a second and nods over to where Marlon’s bow is propped up against a tree nearby.

“Go ahead,” she says quietly. Wordlessly, Clementine passes them both and picks up Marlon’s bow. She could tell why he lugged it around everywhere. Its weight is comforting in her hands, the string pulling back with a slight twang as she runs her index finger against it. She pulls an arrow from the sheath of them that’s on the ground nearby and aligns it with the string of the bow, taking a deep breath.

Then she lets go.

It hits the target dead-on. Louis makes a low whistling sound, but she isn’t done just yet. She reaches over for another arrow, aligns it with the string once more. It hits the target again, this time a little to the left of the bull’s-eye. She reaches for another, and then another.

She can’t tell how much time has passed, but when she finally relaxes her arms and lets go of the bow, muscles screaming in protest, it’s gotten dark and dusky, the first stars of the night emerging in the ink-black sky above her head. She turns around, and there stand Louis and Violet in the same exact position as she left them, gawking at her as if they aren’t quite sure what to make of her.

She isn’t quite sure what to make of them, either, or the fact that they’ve apparently been watching her vent her frustration and her anger at herself- for not being able to protect AJ, from letting Lilly and Abel escape, from not insisting James come with her when she knew that the former were still out there in the woods, kidnapping kids left and right- for at least the past hour and a half.

“Sorry,” she says finally, breathing heavily from the exertion of nonstop archery, not sure exactly why she’s apologizing. Louis shakes his head, fingers drumming against his denim-clad thighs.

“I would tell you how impressed I am, if I didn’t think you’d shoot the next arrow between my eyes.”

Clementine cracks a smile at that. Violet, not to be outdone, says, “That was pretty good, Clementine. You should teach me and Louis sometime, if you want.”

Then they’re left staring at each other. Even in the dark, Clementine knows their eyes are still trained on her face, as though it’s a magnet that they can’t quite bear to tear their eyes away from for long. She can’t tell if it’s because they’re still scared of her, or if it’s… something else entirely.

They’ve been looking at her like that since she and AJ arrived, expressions that she could never quite ascribe the right emotion to. But if she had to guess, it’s sort of like the expression that comes onto her face whenever she and AJ are together and out of danger, not doing anything in particular- maybe feeling him doze off on her shoulder, little puffs of breath hitting the side of her neck, or fishing in whatever creek they’re able to find that week, or listening to him broadcast one last battle between Disco Broccoli and the forces of evil- which are usually just plain old walkers- before bedtime. It’s something stronger than fondness, stronger than affection. It’s something that she doesn’t even have a word for- and even if that word existed, it wouldn’t exist in English, or any other language she could ever learn.

Violet opens her mouth, and suddenly, Clementine’s scared of whatever she might say. Before she can say anything, Clementine says, her voice too loud in the sudden quiet that’s surrounded them, “I should go check on AJ. He’ll want to see me, if he’s awake.”

“Do you want us to c-“

But before Louis can finish his sentence, Clementine’s already hurrying back to the main building, practically running up the stairs and out of sight. But she knows, without looking back, that they’re watching her go, with expressions on their faces that don’t have a single word to describe them, except maybe devotion.

Or worship.

 

* * *

“Who do you think Clem was talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“In truth or dare. I asked her if she had a crush on anyone here, and she was all, ‘definitely,’ but then she totally refused to tell me who it was.”

“Hm.”

Louis looks up from where he’s carving his initials on the bedpost. Vi is sitting on his bed, legs loosely curled beneath her as she stares out the window with a forlorn expression on her face. Louis frowns and drops the knife he’s been using on the bedpost, clambering over to join Violet on the mattress.

“I bet it’s you,” he says after he’s settled in beside her, and Violet’s head swivels so suddenly he’s afraid she’s going to get whiplash.

“That’s _so_ untrue,” she tells him, after a half-minute. Her expression, however, is open and- dare he say it?- almost _hopeful,_ in a way that he hasn’t seen since Violet first asked him if he thought that Minnie had feelings for her. “If anyone, she was talking about you.”

“ _What?”_ Louis asks, flabbergasted but also deeply pleased. “How d’you figure?”

“She keeps on, like, _looking_ at you. You _know_ how she looks at you.” Violet says this in a huff, pressing her knees to her face so that her speech is garbled by the denim of her pants. Hesitantly, Louis rests a hand on her shoulder, not sure what the protocol is for when one of your best friends is upset that your mutual crush seemingly likes you more than she likes her.

“She looks at you, too,” Louis points out. And she _does-_ it’s not like Louis is making this up to make Violet feel better. She can always tell whenever he’s lying; it’s like, a secret superpower. Like the lamest superpower in the world, yeah, but a superpower nonetheless. And he does _not_ want to imagine how she’d rearrange his face if he was lying.

Violet glances up at him. They consider each other for a few seconds; then, as though in some terrible teenage romcom- back when there were terrible teenage romcoms to be spoken of-, they both blurt out, “Do you think she likes me?”

They stare at each other.

“That was awkward,” Louis states, dropping his hand lamely from Vi’s shoulder. “Well, I’m gonna go bury myself in a hole now and never emerge. Cool? Cool.”

“ _Not_ cool,” Violet, rolling her eyes at his self-deprecating little speech. “If we both like her, we should just say it out loud. We shouldn’t let stupid kid stuff like this mess with our friendship- especially now that the raiders are probably coming to kill us all.”

“I’m touched. And a little unsettled.”

Violet’s eyes refuse to leave his. “C’mon, Louis. Fess up.”

Louis groans. He never had to deal with these sorts of problems when Marlon was alive. Back then, all he had to worry about was where they were going to find their next meal for the night. That’s _way_ more preferable to whatever it is they’re doing here.

“Okay, god, fine,” he says. “Yes, I like Clementine. I like her face and the way she beats up walker piñatas with me and her hat that I still don’t know the meaning of, and I like hearing her laugh, and I _especially_ like it when she laughs at my jokes, and did I mention that I like her face-“

“Oh my god, yes, I got it,” Violet says, smiling despite herself. At Louis’ probing look, she sighs and leans her head against his shoulder, looking up at the cracks in the ceiling as she admits, “I like her too.”

At Louis’ expectant look, she sighs again and adds, “And I like her face and her laugh and her hat and everything else you just said. Minus the piñata thing.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Violet’s cheek pressed onto Louis’s shoulder as his puts his arm around her. He missed her a lot this week. Between the-- _incident_ with Marlon, and throwing Clem and AJ out, and finding out that the raiders who took the twins were still out there in the woods, they didn’t exactly have a chance to hang out.

“So, what should we do now?” Louis asks her. Violet burrows her head further into his shoulder, so that her nose is almost up his armpit. _Gross,_ Louis thinks affectionately to himself. She stays quiet for so long that he doesn’t think she’s going to answer, when she finally says, “I don’t kn-“

“Why can’t you guys both be with Clem?” AJ asks from the doorway.

Violet moves away from Louis so suddenly that her spine hits the bedpost he’s been carving his initials into. Louis would laugh, but he’s kind of horrified by the fact that AJ has apparently been standing in the threshold of his room long enough to hear their dilemma about what to tell his big sister - biological or otherwise- that they’re in love with her. Apparently, he’s been feeling well enough to start walking around the school again.

“How long have you been standing there?” Louis questions, just to be on the safe side. AJ wrinkles his nose.

“Long enough to hear that you like Clem’s face. I like it too, but I don’t think it’s in the same way.”

Clementine’s face pops up in Louis’s brain, her sculpted brows half-furrowed- and _seriously,_ how are her eyebrows so flawless in a world where Louis hasn’t found a single set of tweezers in months? totally unfair-, hazel eyes alight as they listen attentively to something he’s saying, the corners of her lips quirking upward, and Louis fights back a laugh.

“Definitely not in the same way, little buddy,” he tells AJ.

“Close the door, will you?” Violet asks, her face an interesting shade of bright red. “We don’t need someone else overhearing us.”

AJ’s brow furrows, just like Clementine’s. Louis seriously doesn’t understand how Violet knew at first glance that they weren’t blood relatives; AJ’s basically a little Clementine, Louis thinks, only without the hat.

“Was- was listening to your conversation bad?” He asks Violet, eyes wide, lips pouting, and Louis already knows the battle is over before it even began. He doesn’t know how Clementine does it; he’d be giving into whatever the little dude wanted if he looked at him like that. Apparently, Violet isn’t an exception, because she instantly flushes and shakes her head.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?” She says, her voice more gentle than Louis thought it capable of being. AJ nods solemnly, before closing the door behind him and taking a seat in the desk chair near Louis’s bed.

“So…” AJ begins, looking at their faces curiously. “You guys both like Clementine, but you’re too afraid to tell her. Right?”

“Bingo,” Louis says, half-convinced that this is all some weird fever dream he’s having right now. AJ looks at him, a frown on his face.

“But I don’t get it. I mean, I get being scared- I get scared sometimes, too, but Clem says it’s okay when I am. You just have to stop, think, and, um-“

“Breathe?” Violet suggests, remembering Clementine’s bit of advice from before. AJ nods, his little face serious.

“Yeah. And after you do that, you stop being scared. Or, at least, you stop being _as_ scared as you were before.” He’s so earnest that Louis kinda wants to hug him. Or at least lock him in a room, far away from the shitshow currently happening outside Ericson’s walls.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll work for our situation,” Louis says dryly. “I mean, even if we got over how fu- _freaking_ scared we are, Clementine’ll still have to pick one of us to be with.”

“Or neither,” Violet adds- a bit pessimistically, in Louis’s opinion. They’re practically the most attractive people at the school, aside from Omar, and _maybe_ Aasim- chances are she’s bound to like one of them.

“Why can’t you guys both be with Clementine?” AJ asks, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands together, like some kind of six-year-old therapist. Violet and Louis exchange a glance, unsure how to explain societal norms to a boy who’s been raised in a world where the dead don’t stay dead and people shoot each other without blinking for an extra sweatshirt or box of Twinkies.

“That’s not how it works, little buddy,” Louis finally says, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Judging from Violet’s expression, she’s feeling just as awkward.

“But how _does_ it work?” AJ asks, frustrated. “And _why_ doesn’t it work like that?”

Before either Louis or Violet can stumble through a painful explanation about romantic relationships with a boy only a few years out of his toddlerhood, Ruby bursts into the room, looking panicked.

“AJ! There you are, god, I was so worried!” She exclaims, taking his shoulders and looking up and down. Clementine’s on her heels, and her appearance makes Violet and Louis stiffen in unison, adamantly refusing to look at one another. “Did you rip your stitches? Is there any pain?”

“I’m fine, Ruby,” AJ says, looking a little pleased nonetheless by her concern. Louis remembers when he bit her their first meeting, not all too long ago at all, and hides a smile behind his hand. _Oh, how the tides have changed._

And they really have. He was attracted to Clementine the first time he saw her, bloody and bruised with a gash on her forehead thanks to the car crash, but it goes beyond attraction for him now- for Violet too, it seems. Looking at her now, fussing over AJ, jacket tied around her waist, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a more beautiful girl in the world. Even before the apocalypse. 

And when he meets Violet's eyes over AJ's head, he knows she thinks so, too.


	2. for the sweet words you never would say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> music and deep-set traumas go well together w/ these kids

“Lee,” Clementine gasps, waking up with a start.

It’s dark outside. She only meant to sleep for an hour or so, then wrangle AJ up from wherever he was and put him to bed, but it seems that he’s beat her to it- he’s snuggled up, safe and sound, in the bunk beside hers. His little face is blank and more peaceful than it ever is when he’s awake, and for a few seconds, Clementine envies him. He isn’t in the throes of a nightmare, but in the deep slumber of a boy who never dreams of anything more frightening than a faceless monster. Then she shakes off the feeling, thoroughly unsettled. At least Clementine’s nightmare monsters have faces attached to them.

Carefully, she lifts herself off the bed and pulls the covers over AJ, tucking them in at the corners. In some half-forgotten corner of her memory, she can recall her own mother doing that for her when she was a kid- tucking in the corners of the blankets and giving her a kiss goodnight. The spot where she pressed her lips against Clementine’s forehead would be warm all night, a protector against the vampires and ghouls that would inevitably try to creep through the bedroom window, or from underneath the bed, or behind the closet door.

She does the same for AJ now, pressing her lips against his forehead, before grabbing her hat and boots and closing the door behind her on the way out. She needs to get out of there, escape the remnants of her nightmare which still cling to her sheets. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the nightmares she’d have just after Lee died, sweaty and thrashing and screaming until either Christa or Omid would be forced to clamp a hand over her mouth so as to not alert any nearby walkers of their location- but it’s bad. Bad enough that she’s still shivering as she makes her way down the stairs and through the hallway that leads to the music room, instinctively knowing, somehow, that Louis will be down there.

Louis _is_ there, as she somehow knew he would be, and so is Violet, reclining on a couch nearby the piano where Louis is sitting. Both of them look haggard and worn, but when they hear Clementine come in their faces simultaneously break into smiles. Clementine smiles back at them, feeling something as warm as the kiss her mother would give her as a kid bloom inside her chest.

“Bad dreams?” Violet asks. The big bags under her eyes suggest she’s been going through the same thing.

“Yep,” Clementine says, taking a seat beside her on the couch. Violet’s legs are hanging over the arm of it, looking ghostly pale in the dim moonlight that streams through the window on the other side of the room. Hesitantly, Clementine kicks off her boots and tucks her feet beneath her legs. The sight of Violet’s bare legs makes Clementine feel surprisingly tender. The cuffs of her jeans are rolled nearly up to her thighs, and though they can’t be comfortable to sleep in, Clementine knows she stopped wearing pajamas to bed the day the dead started walking.

“What about?” Louis asks, turning around in his chair to look at Clementine. He’s wearing pajamas, unlike Violet, but his coat is slung across his shoulders, his feet covered by thick socks that Clementine can tell are neon green, even in the dark. He looks more comfy than Clementine’s been in a while. “Because I just dreamed that I was being forced to eat a bowl of cantaloupe that kept on shrieking whenever I’d tried to eat it, so I don’t know if anything can top that.”

“It was about Lee.” Clementine says.

“Oh. Do you, um, do you want to share it…?”

“I-“ she looks at their faces. “Okay.”

They say nothing, only wait for her to begin. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to organize the chaos inside her head.

“I was in the jewelry store, back in Georgia.” She started, and then paused when she saw the looks of confusion on their faces. “That’s where I shot Lee. He was going to turn, and he made me promise him that I’d stop that from happening. But in my dream… he didn’t stop. Even though I shot him, he just wouldn’t stop turning. I watched his eyes turn silver. His cheeks were sagging, and his mouth was hanging open, but the worst part was his eyes. He was looking at me, when he died… and I could see the moment he didn’t recognize me anymore. I used to have this dream a lot back when it first happened. It’s, um… it’s been a while.”

“Wow.” Louis says quietly. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at Clementine, and it’s only when she tries to see the expression on his face that she realizes her eyes have gone blurry with tears. “How old were you?”

“Nine,” says Clementine, eyes fixated on a spot behind Louis, trying to suppress the tears as discreetly as possible. “I was nine.”

 They all lapse into an uncomfortably long silence after that. Clementine is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Violet is sitting so close she can feel the heat emit from her body, that Louis is only a few feet away, eyes on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Clementine murmurs at last, breaking the silence. The tears, thank God, are finally under control, though her eyes are still a bit wet. “I didn’t mean to burst on you guys, or anything-“

“I dreamed about Minnie,” Violet interrupts calmly. “The day she was taken. I dreamed that she was screaming my name, and all I could do was watch as some faceless asshole dragged her off to God knows where. Sophie was standing beside me, crying like her heart was breaking, screaming at me to stop standing there and do something, but I was paralyzed. All I could do was watch her be taken away.”

“Vi…” Louis says, face crumpled. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s not how it happened, I know, but- it just felt so _real,_ I could hear her screams in my ears even after I woke up.” And though Violet turns her face away from Clementine, she knows that there are tears in her eyes. She looks up at Louis, silently begging him to intervene. Violet hates crying in front of other people. She knows that now.

“I dreamed about Marlon,” Louis offers, voice uncharacteristically solemn. “About the day he, er, died. I kept on replaying that scene inside my mind, his head bursting like rotten fruit kept out in the open for too long. The blood soaked into my clothes, which, aside from the ordinary grossness of blood, was disgusting because it was Marlon’s blood, and it should never have been outside his body in such huge quantities… and I kept thinking to myself, _he’s only seventeen, he’s only seventeen…”_

Clementine’s throat closes up. “I’m so sorry, Louis.”

Louis looks up at her, startled by her tone. When he sees the expression on her face, he instantly backtracks, tripping over his words in his haste to reassure her. “Clem, no, I definitely didn’t mean it like that- I know he had you in a tight corner, I know it’s not your or AJ’s fault- just- things can be sad without it being anyone’s fault. We grew up together, and it just… sucks all around. But it’s not your fault.”

“Thanks.”

The silence overtakes them once more, but it’s more peaceful than it is awkward. Louis presses piano keys gently, absentmindedly, while Violet taps her feet against the arm of the couch to match the lazy beat. It’s enough to lull Clementine into a drowsy state, almost half-asleep when Louis suddenly presses down on a key too loudly.

“While talking about our deep-set traumas is nice and all,” he tells them, his voice a little too loud and cheery in the quiet of the music room at night, “we should do something fun!”

“’Something fun?’” Violet repeats, sounding incredulous. “What _fun_ can we possibly get up to at three in the morning?”

Louis smiles in response. “You know, there’re a few more instruments sitting in that closet over there-“

“No.”

“Vi, c’mon, it’ll be fun-“

“Louis, I am not starting a band at _three in the morning._ ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Louis says, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “I never said anything about starting a band. Though, if we _did_ , we should come up with a killer band name…”

“Nightmare Kids,” Clementine suggests, grinning. “The Walker Slayers. Dead Parents Society.”

“Dirty Cantaloupes,” Louis continues. “Clementine and the Killers. The D Stands For Doom.”

They look at Violet expectantly. She groans in response.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this. Ugh, god, I don’t know- The Walking Dead, maybe?”

“Too cliché,” Louis informs her. “Very death metal, though. Wait, that gives me an idea- what about the Talking Heads? Or the Grateful Dead?”

“Hate to tell you this, Louis, but both those bands already exist,” Clementine says, smiling a little. “My dad used to listen to the Talking Heads all the time. And my mom loved Jerry Garcia, I think.”

“Well, those bands _might’ve_ existed back then, but they’re gone now.” Louis frowns. “Can you remember your favorite song before dead guys started chomping on people?”

 Clementine wracks her head. She never really paid attention to what was on the radio when she was a kid, but now she misses it. The sheer novelty of being able to listen to music on a radio makes her shiver a little. Even country music, which she hated most of, would be preferable to this silence that’s crept over the entire world.

“Red River Valley,” she decides. She laughs a little at Louis and Violet’s blank looks, and suddenly, without even thinking about it, sings the first few lines for them to hear. She can only remember the chorus, but it’s enough for Louis and Violet, the latter of whom apparently _has_ heard it before, and hums a little along with Clementine as she sings.

“That’s really pretty, Clementine,” Violet says wistfully. “God, I forgot that song even existed. My grandpa used to love Marty Robbins. He dug old shit like that. Not that it’s shit, or anything! Just… you know what I mean.”

“Maybe I can find the piano composition for that somewhere,” Louis says, glancing at the two of them curiously. “In the meantime, you guys wanna know what my favorite song is, from before?”

This time, it’s Clementine’s turn to groan. “Don’t you dare.”

“What is he going to-“ Violet asks, but before she can finish her sentence, Louis bursts into song.

“ _Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’ Clementine-“_

A pillow from the couch hits him square in the chest. When Louis pauses his rendition of the nursery rhyme that’s been haunting Clementine since first grade to see who threw it, Violet launches another pillow at him, evidently keen on defending Clementine’s honor- and eardrums- against Louis’s screeching keys. The sight of it dispels the last of Clementine’s nightmare, thoroughly forgotten as the music starts back up again, this time accompanied by the sound of Clementine’s laughter, and the gentle _thump!_ of the pillows hitting Louis, one by one.


	3. but i dared be wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was listening to the life is strange before the storm soundtrack when i was writing this and u can totally tell tbh

“I’m gonna be real with you, Vi- I actually do think we should start a band.”

“ _No_.”

“Seriously? You haven’t even heard my pitch yet!”

“I don’t need to hear your pitch to know it’s going to be terrible,” Violet retorted, pausing in her attempt to create what Louis called the most cliché prison shiv in the history of prison shivs, and what she called a practical mini weapon to stab the raiders that didn’t appear to be coming anytime soon with. “And anyway, we don’t exactly have time to start a band anytime soon. We have a _thing_ to deal with.”

“A _thing_? Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Louis asks sardonically. Violet rolls her eyes and tests the tip of the wooden dagger against her thumb, wincing when she feels a splint of wood jabbing into her skin. “It wouldn’t even be that big of a deal. I can be on piano. You can be on drums. Clem can be on vocals. I could even manage to find something for AJ to do, probably. Maybe guitar, if we have one…”

“God, why does this matter to you so much?” Violet asks exasperatedly, trying to dig the splinter out of her thumb, without much success. Louis frowns at her from across the kitchen, where he’s currently sitting on the counter, mincing garlic for Omar’s stew surprise later on tonight.

“Because it’d cheer people up! You know, give them something else to think about instead of the fact that we might be dead come next week?” Louis tells her, turning around to scrutinize her face. “And, obviously, to spend a little more time with Clementine. Don’t pretend you don’t want that, too. I saw the way you were staring at her the other day- your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.”

“Shut up,” Violet says, flushing hard. “I was _not.”_

“You so were. When she started singing that cowboy song or whatever, there were literal hearts in your eyes. I wanted to tell you something, but I figured it wasn’t the right time.”

Violet digs the shiv- _dagger,_ she chastises herself- into the table and glares up at Louis, who has a smug smile on his face that she wants to punch off. “Like you weren’t doing the exact same thing.”

“This isn’t a competition, Vi,” Louis says cautiously, watching the handle of the unfinished dagger vibrate from the force of Violet’s fist sticking it into the table . “All I’m saying is that if we’re going to be obvious about it, we might as well come up with excuses to be around her more. Aren’t you scared that something might happen, and you’d never get the chance to tell her how you feel again?”

Violet clenches her jaw stubbornly. “No, because she’s smart enough not to get herself killed. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

“Oh, like nothing happened to Sophie and Minnie?” Louis quips- then instantly pauses, his face draining of all blood. Violet can’t tell what the expression on her face is, but she knows it’s not good by the way Louis’s eyes dart to the door, most likely wondering how far he could make it before Violet tackled him to the ground. “I… _seriously_ didn’t mean it like that. That was totally uncalled for. Wow. God, I’m a jerk. I’m sorry.”

Violet eyes him warily, fists clenched on the table. “You better not say anything like that again. If Tenn catches you saying that, I’ll-“

“Point made,” Louis says meekly. “But I’m still right about the band.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“Think about what?” Ruby asks as she comes in with a basket full of herbs from the greenhouse, a healthy flush in her cheeks as she maneuvers her way around Louis in order to set her load down on the counter.

“Louis wants to start a band,” Violet informs her, rolling her eyes. “We don’t even have a _name_ yet.”

“I’m telling you, The D Stands For Doom is a perfectly acceptable name-“

“It so isn’t-“

“It’s _alliteration_!”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Ruby scolds, wagging a green stem at them. “And I think starting a band’s a lovely idea. But, uh, maybe work on the name a little before you guys begin, okay?”

“See?” Violet says triumphantly, turning around in her seat to see Louis’s expression. He sticks his tongue out at her when Ruby’s back in turned. “The name sucks. If we’re going to go through with this, we’re going to come up with a name that doesn’t sound vaguely euphemistic.”

“Speaking of vaguely euphemistic…” Ruby edges closer, taking a seat in the empty chair beside Violet’s. “I need your advice, guys.”

Louis perks his head up like a hound dog sniffing prey, abandoning his mincing duties in order to take a seat on the surface of the table, directly next to Violet. She wrinkles her nose in response.

“People eat on this table, Louis.”

“They don’t. Also, you _just_ stuck your shiv into it, like, a minute ago, so you’re really not one to talk. Anyways, go on, Ruby.”

“Well…” Ruby tucks a lock of stray red hair behind her ear, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Aasim’s asked me if I want to go to the greenhouse with him tomorrow. Get some more herbs and the likes. But- I don’t know- the way he said it made it sound like it was _more_ than a trip to the greenhouse, and I don’t know what to tell him.”

Violet and Louis exchange grins, previous tensions forgotten. “Well, what do you _want_ it to be? A trip to the greenhouse, or a _trip_ to the greenhouse?”

“I don’t know!” Ruby all but wails. “That’s why I came to you guys for advice! You’ve had relationships before!”

“I haven’t,” Louis tells her helpfully. “But I’ve read enough Cosmopolitan magazines in the dentist’s waiting room when I was a kid to know everything you need to know about relationships.”

“Seriously?” Violet asks. Louis looks at her, face serious.

“I never joke about Cosmopolitan magazines, Violet.”

“Okay, so, what am I supposed to do, then?” Ruby demands, bringing the attention back to the matter at hand. Louis strokes his chin thoughtfully for a few minutes, before snapping his fingers in apparent enlightenment.

“He isn’t trying to, like, hint at anything,” Louis decides, “because he’d be way too scared you’d punch him in the face if he was, but if you _were_ to go with him to the greenhouse, and make the first move, he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“That sounds gross. And unsanitary.”

“Violet, please. I’m quoting advice columns for middle-aged women here.”

Violet kind of wants to tell her not to bank much on Louis’s love advice, seeing as though his one and only plan to make Clementine to fall in love with them is to start a band with her and Violet, but Ruby just looks so earnest and trusting, she finds that she doesn’t have the heart.

“…Fine. I’ll go with him to the greenhouse. But you better not be wrong about this, Louis,” Ruby says warningly, getting up to hoist her now-empty wicker basket against her hip. “Otherwise, I’ll get so upset, I’ll- I’ll sic the raiders on you first!”

As they watch her go, Violet shakes her head in wonder. “You know that the kidnapping murderers have taken a long time to attack when people start making jokes about sacrificing you to them first.”

“Or maybe that’s just how she feels on a normal basis,” Louis suggests, sounding altogether far more cheerful at the prospect than he should be. “Don’t you wish that we had someone to go to for relationship advice?”

“Uh, no.” Violet scoffs. “We have ourselves.”

“ _’We?’_ I’m the one making all the decisions around here!” Louis exclaims, raising his hands up in the air. Violet resists the urge to flip him off, glaring at him instead.

“That stupid band of yours isn’t a decision!”

Louis stares at her, aghast. “The band is _not_ stupid. And anyway, if you think it’s so dumb, then why don’t _you_ make a decision about what to do with the Clem situation?”

Violet stares at the grain in the kitchen table for a long time. Finally, she looks up at him, eyes hard as diamonds. “First of all, we’re going to discuss what we do if Clementine actually returns either of our feelings.”

“…What do you mean, _either_ of our feelings?” Louis questions, looking bewildered. Violet rolls her eyes for the second time in the past five minutes.

“We’re different people. We’re not, like, a single entity here. We’re two people, and she’s one person-“

“-Oh, glad you got that sorted out for me; I only took three years of math classes before the world ended, you know-“

“And even if she _does_ return our feelings, it may only be with one of us. So, what are we going to do, if that’s the case?”

“Cry.”

“Louis.”

He raises his hands up. “Alright, alright. Um, okay, so, if I was being totally real with you, Vi- I don’t think I could handle that kind of loss. I mean, if she picks you, I’m probably going to be jealous- of both of you, really. You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t see you as much anymore, since you’d probably drag her to the roof to make out underneath stars- I _know_ you have a romantic bone in that body of yours somewhere-“

“Thanks, I think?”

“-and even if I _did_ see you it would be tainted by jealousy and other gross teenage emotions, so it would be a double whammy. Bad on all sides. And I feel like you’d say the same thing.”

Violet opens her mouth to protest, but realizes he’s right. At least a little bit. She definitely wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Clementine and Louis together, if it wasn’t her on Clementine’s other side.

“So, what are we? A package deal? This isn’t really enforcing my individual entity thing, Louis. It wouldn’t be Clementine’s fault if she only preferred one of us.”

“Yes,” Louis says patiently, “but it’s also not our fault if we can’t handle gross teenage emotions without each other, Vi. And, honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to handle this without you. Not even the Clementine thing, but the relationships thing in general. It’s good to have you there. To guide me, y’know? To guide us both.”

And goddammit if Louis’s little speech doesn’t leave a warm, tender feeling in Violet’s previously cold, dead heart. She gives him a genuine, if tentative, smile, and bumps her foot against his under the table.

“Same here, Louis. So… I guess we really are a package deal, then. Huh. Never would’ve expected that to occur.”

“What?” Louis cries, mock-offended. “We’re practically identical! Two peas in a pod!”

“Two peas in a pod, one of which is severely deformed and suffering from malnutrition because the other pea kept on sucking up all the nutrients.”

“I… don’t think that’s how peas work, Vi.”

Violet picks her shiv- _dagger-_ back up again. “I literally don’t know what the difference is between edamame and peas, so. You shouldn’t expect much.”

“This conversation is officially off track. Again, I reiterate: your plan for Operation: Seduce Clementine?”

“Oh, God,” Violet groans, laughing despite herself. “We’re not calling it that.”

“We so are.”

“I think we should just spend time with her. Naturally. No sneaking around, no having ulterior motives or whatever… let’s just get to know her before we do anything else. Like, we don’t know a lot of things about her, and she doesn’t know a lot of things about us.”

“I know a lot of things about Clementine!” Louis protests. Violet arches an eyebrow at him, something she know always upsets him, because he can never do it himself and desperately wants to.

“Oh, yeah? What’s her favorite color?” She questions, whittling away at the shiv- _dagger! It’s a dagger!-_ in earnest now. Louis’s face breaks into a huge, devious smile. It’s the kind of smile Violet expects to be on the expression of the cat who just got the cream.

“Violet, of course.”

“I _will_ throw this deadly weapon at you.”

“Shivs aren’t even real weapons!”

“ _It’s not a shiv!”_

 

* * *

 

Thinking about it later, though, counting the cracks on her bedroom ceiling as she tosses and turns sleeplessly for the fifth time in the past week, Violet has to admit to herself that she doesn’t know entirely what’s going to happen.

Minnie might not be dead. There’s a possibility that she’s alive- sold into labor, yes, abused by raiders and murderers and all-around bastards, yes, but alive-, and yet Violet still thinks it’s a good idea to start a new relationship with another girl- even if that girl makes Violet’s heart flutter, and her palms sweat, and her skin tingle anywhere she touches her. Minnie used to do the same thing. Whenever Violet would catch a glimpse of a lock of red hair, she’d flush down to her roots- even before she realized she liked Minnie, like her body was constantly one step ahead of her. And now the same thing was happening again, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

What would Minnie say, if she could see her now?

Probably that Violet was being stupid, and depriving herself of future relationships because she was still half in love with a girl who may or may not be dead, and all of that. But Violet just can’t _help_ it. Every time she looks at Clementine, and she feels her heart skip a beat, it feels like betrayal. She didn’t even _realize_ clavicles could be considered beautiful, but she’d stared at Clementine’s for nearly ten minutes the day before. No, Minnie wouldn’t say she’s stupid. Minnie would say that she’s _head-over-heels in love_ stupid. And that kind of stupid’s dangerous. That kind of stupid can kill.

“That kind of stupid is not letting me sleep,” Violet groans out loud, getting up from her bed. She grabs one of the blankets off the mattress and pulls it over her shoulders before padding in her socked feet over to the window (wearing socks to bed, coincidentally, was one of the only things she and Louis agreed upon- if for completely different reasons; he wanted to be comfy, and she wanted to be prepared in case they had to make a quick getaway.) The moon hangs bright and luminous in the inky night sky, illuminating the courtyard. At night, Ericson looks almost peaceful, as though it isn’t overrun by unruly children ages six through eighteen, but almost as though it’s been reclaimed by nature, by the trees and the soot and the soil, slowly collecting in the cracks of the cemented pathways.

And then there’s Tenn, standing in the middle of it all.

Violet blinks, but he’s still standing there, looking up at the sky with a thoughtful, solemn expression on his face. He’s not wearing any shoes, or a jacket either, even though the temperature has been plummeting as the days go by. Frowning, Violet hurries out of her room, down the stairs that lead into the courtyard. He’s still in the same position, face tilted towards the moon, hands clasped tightly together across his stomach.

“Tenn?” Violet calls cautiously, edging slowly to where he’s standing. “What are you doing?”

He jumps a little, eyes wide when they fall on Violet’s face. “What are _you_ doing?”

“I saw you out in the courtyard by yourself in the middle of the night and decided to come investigating.”

“Great outfit, detective.”

Confused, Violet looks down at herself- only to realize that her blanket is still draped around her shoulders. Blushing a little, she takes it off her shoulders and puts it around Tenn’s, who she can now see is trembling slightly in the cold night air.

“Why are you out here, Tenn?” Violet asks, after a period of silence passes.

“I miss them,” Tenn says softly, tucking the blanket more securely around himself. He looks calm, but Violet sees the way his hands clench into fists at his sides. She knows he’s been doing the exact same thing she has- tossing and turning all night long, thoughts focused solely on his sister. Sisters. It’s around this time of year that they… disappeared.

Violet’s face softens. “I know you do. They might still be out there, you know.”

Tenn looks up at her, expression haunted. “I hope they aren’t.”

_“What?”_

“Vi, if they’re out there- _really_ out there-, then they’ve probably been really, really hurt by the raiders. I don’t even want to think about it. Sophie was always scared of getting kidnapped before the- when we were younger. To think about her and Minnie all trapped and scared like that…” Tears rush to his eyes. Wordlessly, Violet puts an arm around him and pulls him close to her, wishing not for the first time, that she’d been able to protect him more. The day Marlon told them Sophie and Minnie got bit was the worst day of both their lives. Even now, she can still remember the look on his face, when he realized his whole world was imploding… she remembered, because when she looked into the mirror that night, she saw the same look on her own face.

“Wherever they are,” she tells him softly, “I know they’re thinking about you.”

Tenn lets out a quiet sob. Violet puts her other arm around him, bending down on her knees so that she can embrace him properly. He clings to her like a child- like the child that he is-, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. They stay like that for a long  time, until Tenn finally lets go, putting a hand up to his face to wipe away the tear tracks.

“They’re thinking about you, too,” Tenn whispers. “Minnie especially.”

Violet’s heart clenches, but before she can respond, Tenn continues.

“I know that she’d want you to be happy, because she’d want me to be happy, too,” he says, looking almost painfully earnest. “We were like family-“

“We _are_ family,” Violet interrupts- a little too peremptorily, maybe, but Tenn’s face lights up a bit at her words.

“Then, as family,” he says, taking her hand into his, “I want you to be happy. And I know that being around Clementine makes you happy.”

Her face drains of all color. She wants to rip her hand away from his and run back off to her room- where it’s safe, and quiet, and there are no little brother figures to make her question her decision-making skills or the fact that she’s been apparently transparent enough that her feelings for Clementine are written all over her face, but she doesn’t. She knows she needs to hear whatever comes out of Tenn’s mouth next.

As if reading her thoughts, Tenn smiles a little. “Don’t worry, you’re not super indiscreet about your feelings or anything. I overheard you and Louis in the kitchen the other day. I’d apologize for eavesdropping, but I know that’s been happening to you guys a lot lately, so I figured you wouldn’t mind all that much anymore.”

“I do,” Violet grumbles, but she smiles back at Tenn so he knows she’d kidding. Half-kidding, anyway. The eavesdropping thing _is_ getting a little annoying, if she’s being perfectly honest- she’ll need to put bells around his and AJ’s necks from now on, like little cats. 

“Anyways, if you and Louis and Clem are all going to be together… then if Minnie’s still alive,” and here his voice cracks a bit, “you can just make room for her, too. And that way it’s fair on all sides.”

Violet laughs, a tiny, heartbroken thing. “You were always such a little diplomat, you know that?”

Tenn looks at her, eyes big and serious. “I try to be.”

She squeezes his hand. “I know you do. And, for what it’s worth, I think that’s a great plan.”

A watery grin threatens to split Tenn’s face.  


	4. thinking how could you get this going on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> panicking in front of ur crush ft. louis and violet

“Ruby. You’re overthinking this.”

“He held my hand. My hand _,_ Clem! I don’t even want to think about what I looked like. No, wait- I know _exactly_ what I looked like. A big red tomato, that’s what.”

“A pretty tomato, if anything.”

“Clem! This is serious!” Ruby exclaims, though the smile spreading across her face says otherwise. Clementine smiles back, wiping the soot off her chin. They’d been laboring in the greenhouse for hours, hunched over the herbs that were only just now beginning to show some signs of growth.

If Clementine’s being truthful with herself, she didn’t think they were going to sprout at all. From what she could remember of her mother’s own garden, the soil seemed much too dry and crumbly to habituate even the most easily maintained plants out there, but it was like Ruby had a green thumb straight out of heaven. She went up to the greenhouse with Aasim- who she was currently agitating over with Clementine- a few days ago, took out the weeds in the plant boxes and began sowing, and it was as though the place had never been abandoned to begin with.

And even though Clementine’s grateful for the fact that they won’t starve through the winter, being in the greenhouse is like being transported back in time. On her first grade field trip, Mrs. Moore had taken Clementine and her class to the Botanical Gardens. This is- well, this is nothing like that, but it’s green enough that Clementine can almost hear the kids in her class swarming about, playing with the venus fly traps despite the constant warnings Mrs. Moore had given them, ripping the leaves off the poor plants nearby-

“Clem, you still with me?” Ruby asks, snapping Clementine out of her reverie. She blinks, and Ruby comes into view across the planter they’re currently stooped over, looking at Clementine with curious, if concerned, eyes.

“Yeah, still here,” Clementine says, smiling wryly at her own absentmindedness as she tucks the soil around the basil plants she’s just finished seeding. “What did Aasim do after that?”

“He gave me this sweet little smile and just went right back on sowing,” Ruby says, positively swooning. Clementine grins as she wipes the sweat off her forehead. She’s never seen Ruby so- so _dreamy,_ she guess the word would be. Like everything doesn’t seem real to her, except her newfound feelings for Aasim. “Isn’t that the most darling thing you’ve ever heard?”

“It sure is something, all right.”

Ruby looks up at her then, an odd expression creeping over her face. “Now that we’re talking on the subject, what’s been going on with you and Violet?”

“Me and- _what?_ Wait, how is that on the subject? _”_

“Oh, and Louis. Forgot Louis there for a sec- that’s not exactly an easy thing to do, is it?”

Clementine doesn’t know what she looks like right now, but it’s apparently enough to make Ruby crack up, doubling over and nearly getting a mouthful of soil in the process. She doesn’t seem to care, though, still laughing hard enough that Clementine can feel the planter vibrate.

“Clem, you should’ve seen your- _pfft-_ you should’ve seen your face! Dear God, I needed a laugh today…”

“Glad I can entertain you,” Clementine says with a smile, though she still feels a bit shaken. “What do you mean, what’s going on with me, and Violet, and Louis?”

Ruby gives her a strange look. “Aren’t you guys- you know?”

“No, can’t say that I do know. What- what don’t I know, again?” Clementine hasn’t felt this flustered since that other time in first grade, where she accidentally called Mrs. Moore “mom” in front of the entire class.

“Well, aren’t you guys all dating? I can’t say it’s the most orthodox thing out there, but in times like these, who doesn’t need all the love they can get?”

Clementine stays still. She feels rooted to the spot, actually, as though she can’t actually move any of her limbs. She opens her mouth to make some passive remark and save this little moment for later, when she’s agonizing over it at night, alone in her bed, but for some reason beyond her comprehension, the next thing that comes out of her mouth isn’t a nervous laugh and a quick change of the subject, but instead, “Did they say anything about me?”

Ruby smoothes down a lock of frizzy auburn hair that’s escaped her short ponytail and gives Clementine a smile. “They didn’t have to. I’ve been hearing things, you know.”

“Things?” Clementine repeats, feeling herself tremble a little, and that’s when Willy and Mitch come in to take over the greenhouse shift. Before Ruby can say anything more, they’ve been kicked out and have to start the long, hot trek back to the main building. She’s too overheated to ask any more questions, and when the gate comes into view, Ruby instantly excuses herself to wash up for dinner, afraid that Aasim might see her dripping sweat out of her eyeballs. Clementine collapses on a nearby picnic table, pressing her cheek against the wood and breathes slowly, in and out.

“Have a fun time at the greenhouse?” Louis’s voice asks from above her.

Clementine jumps a little, feeling her heart do a stupid little pitter-patter at the sound of his voice. She stays in her position, though, only turning her head slightly so that she can give Louis a smile. “Ruby talked about Aasim the whole while.”

“It was my idea for her to go there in the first place, you know,” Louis tells her smugly, taking a seat beside her at the picnic bench. The side of his coat brushes against her, and her skin instantly breaks out into goosebumps, like her body just can’t help but react to his presence.

As if purposefully trying to make Clementine even more flustered, Violet suddenly appears out of nowhere, hair tousled and skin flushed as though she’s just ran a mile. She plops down on the bench across from Clementine and Louis, running a hand through her hair as if trying to calm it down. It only succeeds in messing it up further, which causes the ball of anxiety- or whatever it is that’s making Clementine’s entire body simultaneously freeze up and grow warm at the same time- forming in the pit of her stomach to grow tighter.

“It really wasn’t,” Violet says now, rolling her eyes. “She was already planning to go there in the first place- she just needed a second opinion about what to do _once_ she got there.”

“Well, whatever you said, it worked,” Clementine tells Louis, taking her head off the table to see him and Violet better. “She and Aasim held hands. Over the thyme seeds. Apparently, it was _super_ romantic.”

Louis grins widely. “I _knew_ it! I knew it, I knew it, I kn-“

“We get it already,” Violet says, but she’s smiling. “You’re a miracle matchmaker.”

“You know,” Clementine says, trying to be casual, “I wouldn’t think that there’d be so many people getting together after the raiders and everything.”

“So many?” Louis repeats, eyebrows furrowing. “Who else got together? Aside from Ruby and Aasim, I mean.”

_Oh, shit._ “Um- nobody! Just a general, uh, observation.”

Before anyone can say anything else, AJ calls Clementine’s name from where he’s walking back from the graveyard, Tenn in tow. Her confused, overheated brain clears the second she hears his voice, maybe the sweetest sound she’s ever heard- and not just because he’s saving her from any future question on Louis’s part, though she has to admit that’s a big plus.

“AJ!” She calls back, waving him over. He runs over to where she’s sitting, giving her a hug before he immediately remembers that Tenn is with him and steps back, trying to gauge his expression in what Clementine thinks AJ believes is an indiscreet manner. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, because he takes a seat beside Clementine and snuggles up close, burying himself into the crook of her arm. Tenn sits down beside Violet on the opposite side, smiling at the two with a fond expression on his face.

“What are you guys talking about?” AJ asks, arm wrapped around Clementine’s back, and she blanches momentarily. So much for saving her from any future lines of questioning.

“Nothing,” Louis says lightly, and for a moment, Clementine allows herself to pray that he won’t say anything more. That is, of course, when he adds, “Only the fact that Clem refuses to tell us who her mystery crush is, that’s all.”

AJ and Tenn exchange a look that Clementine isn’t sure how to interpret.

“Mystery crush?” Tenn repeats blankly. He looks between Louis and Violet’s faces, the latter of who seems to be avoiding his eyes for some reason. Clementine frowns, but before she can interject that they probably shouldn’t be discussing her love life with two per-pubescent boys- one of which is the boy she’s been raising since he was _born-,_ Violet comes to her aid.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Clem,” she says reassuringly, giving Louis a dirty look.

“Wait, but I thought that you already told her!” AJ interjects. It’s funny, but Clementine can almost see the color drain out of Violet’s face. Beside her, Tenn gives AJ a warning look that Clementine _really_ isn’t sure how to interpret this time.

“Tell me what?” She asks, looking between Louis and Violet. AJ opens his mouth to say something else, but Tenn leans over before he can and claps a hand over his mouth. Clementine jumps back in surprise, looking at the two of them in amazement.

“Nothing! AJ’s just being a little crazy over here. C’mon, let’s go up to my room and play with my firefighters, okay?” Tenn says, his words jumbling up a little in their haste to get out of his mouth.

“But I-“

Tenn grabs AJ before he can say anything else and practically drags him away from the table and into the main building. Clementine watches their backs retreat into the house before turning back to Louis and Violet, both of who are staring at her face like hawks. Like weird, secretive, unbearably attractive hawks.

_Wait, what?_

“Kids being kids, amiright?” Louis laughs nervously, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. Violet sighs resignedly, balancing her chin in her hands as she ignores him and focuses her attention on Clementine.

“They’re talking about the band,” she says in a bored voice.

“What?” Clementine and Louis say at the same time. She gives Louis a frustrated look.

“The _band_ , Lou. Weren’t you just telling me that you wanted to start the band so you can find Clem’s mystery person or whatever? Sorry- I kind of tuned you off after a while, so I can’t really remember exactly what it was you said.”

“I thought the band was just a joke,” Clementine says, still a little confused. “And how would that even help me find y- whoever it is I like?”

“Dudes love girls in bands, Clem,” Louis says matter-of-factly. “Chicks, too. Come to think of it, I think everyone, regardless of gender, swoons over just a perfect rendition of _Girls Just Want to Have Fun_ , played entirely on the piano- which, coincidentally, I happened to do entirely back in the second grade. Sarah Weisendorf was totally in love with me from the talent show on, I swear.”

“What are you even talking about, Louis?” Violet asks, shaking her head in wonder. “What kind of self-respecting seven-year-old would ever fall in love with you after listening to you play 80s hits on your piano?”

“We’re getting off-topic again,” Louis informs her loftily, before turning back to Clementine. “The point is, Clem, we’ve decided to make the band. _Really_ make the band. It’ll be fun, trust me! We’ll have lessons, and at the end of practice we’ll make a show for the kiddies-“

“Please don’t call them that,” Violet says, wincing.

“-and, best of all, whoever your crush is, they’ll be so in love with you that they’ll ask for your hand in marriage, right in front of the crowd and all. And that way, we’ll finally figure out who you’ve been mooning over for the past five weeks.”

Clementine gives him a suspicious look. “If we’re actually going to do this, what’s our, y’know, _band name_? Please don’t tell me we’re actually going to be called the Dead Parents Society.”

“Yeah, I don’t think eleven-year-olds understand black comedy,” Violet says wryly. “So what’s our _name_ , Lou?”

“Clementine and the Citriculturists,” Louis says, snapping his fingers like he’s just uncovered a mystery. Clementine and Violet exchange a blank look.

“What the hell is a citriculturist?”

“A scientist who studies citrus fruit trees!” Louis exclaims, like this is somehow common knowledge. His expression falls when he sees the looks on their faces. “Okay, fine. We’ll have a different name. I just… can’t think of any right now. Oh, wait- how about Clementine and the Cephalothoraxes?”

“No way.”

“What? C’mon! It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s exotic-“

“It sounds like somebody’s trying to say something in German while simultaneously puking in their mouth,” Violet says, causing a surprised laugh to bubble out of Clementine’s throat. Violet looks at her sideways, pleased.

“Okay, okay, okay, what about Clementine and the Chincherinchees!”

“Why is my name always in the front?” Clementine challenges, her face hurting a little from how widely she’s grinning. “Why can’t it be Vi’s? Or yours?”

Louis huffs a laugh. “Um, no. This band- aside from cultivating the garden of our friendship and growing our innermost bonds-, is supposed to be about making your crush fall in love with you, ‘kay?”

Violet mutters something then, and though it’s too almost too low for Clementine to catch, she thinks she hears, “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“We’ll sleep on the band names,” Louis decides, hoisting himself up from the table. “For now, I’m actually super tired-“

“You didn’t even do anything all day!" Violet protests. "You just fiddled with your piano and cried when you accidentally banged your pinkie slamming the cover shut!”

“-so I’m gonna hit the hay. We’ll regroup in the music room tomorrow, bright and early!” He calls this from over his shoulder, as by this point he all but dashes back inside the building and out of sight.

“Are we actually starting a band?” Clementine asks, a little mystified by how the day’s turned out so far. Violet shrugs.

“Seems that way,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced herself. “No offense, Clem, but I _really_ don’t want us to be called Clementine and the Chim-chim-erees.”

“No offense taken,” Clementine says, laughing. “Guess we’ll just have to think of a name that doesn’t totally suck together.”

For some inexplicable reason, Violet’s face turns red. “Sure thing. Um, I’m just- um- going to go to back inside now. It’s almost dinner, and I don’t want to- y’know-“

She gestures vaguely to somewhere over Clementine’s shoulder, before taking off in Louis’s footsteps. Clementine watches her retreating back from her perch on the picnic bench, before a sudden realization pops into her head.

“It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon!”


End file.
